


Quite A Bargain

by williamriverdale



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamriverdale/pseuds/williamriverdale
Summary: Peter Parker and J. Jonah Jameson have yet to see eye to eye.





	Quite A Bargain

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Spider-Man fanfic.

QUITE A BARGAIN

 

 

“Parker!” the voice of J. Jonah Jameson rang throughout the Bugle’s office. Ears pricked and head turned towards the closed door to the boss’s office. Even amongst the noise of hundreds of phones ringing and people talking, Jonah’s voice was clear and cutting.

And annoying, Peter thought with a grimace. I swear he has some kind of superpower in his voice. Was he bitten by a genetically altered megaphone?

Sighing to himself, Peter gave a polite smile to the person sitting beside him.

“Well Robbie, duty calls,” Peter said.

Robbie Robinson gave Peter a pat on the back. “Don’t get him more agitated, Peter.”

“Robbie!” Jonah called out. “In my office and Parker, if you don’t get in here in two-point sixty-nine seconds, I will...”

Both Peter and Robbie gave tired sighs. They went towards the office; Peter followed Robbie and gave the secretary Betty Brant a quick nod while entering. Betty gave him a wide smile and mouthed “Good luck”.

I really need it.

Peter entered the office and immediately scrunched his face as the smell of cigar entered his nostrils. Inside Robbie stood beside the man sitting behind the desk. His face was obscured by the heavy smoke; only the burning tip of the cigar and the Hitleresque mustache penetrated the cloudy veil of cancer.

He looks like a super-villian—oh wait.

“Parker!”

“Reporting for duty, boss,” Peter said and gave a mock salute.

“Cut the antics, Parker,” Jonah said, standing up. “You are twenty, not ten. Where are my photos of Spiderman?”

“I don’t have them,” Peter said.

“Bring them to me at once.”

“They are not at home either.”

“What!” Jonah said, veins starting to be visible on his forehead. “I give you one second to tell me why you are showing me your face, inside my office without what I want, before I throw you out to the streets, and fire you!”

Peter put his hands up in a calming manner. Jonah, understanding Peter’s intention did no calming down whatsoever. He just became more furious.

“Mr. Jameson, today I have something better than Spider-Man,” Peter said with a smile. “Even a temperamental person such as you will be unable to deny what I have brought.”

“Enough with the flowery speech, Parker,” Jonah said.

“As you would beseech, I shall heed thy wish,” Peter said, getting a chuckle out of Robbie.

Before Jonah could burst an artery and make the world a better place, Peter took out a set of photos and held it out for Jonah. Jonah grabbed it away, leaving the world to despair as it was denied of its salvation.

Jonah looked at one after another. First photo, his frown lessened; second, his vein went back inside its domain; third, he quirked an eyebrow; fourth, he smiled wide and hugged Peter. But unfortunately, there were only three photos.

Just my luck…

“These,” Jonah started, making a difficult face. “These are… satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory, Mr. Jameson?” Peter asked, playing innocent.

Jonah growled. He didn’t like when people played jokes on him and certainly not from his subordinates and adamantly not from the likes of Peter Parker. Still, he could not deny the quality of the pictures. Now, he knew what was coming and he was ready for it.

Peter dropped the smile and narrowed his eyes. Jonah took a drag of his cigar in anticipation.

“Mr. Jameson.”

“Parker.”

Robbie looked between the two, observing the age-old scene of standoff about to play out. They are at it again.

Jonah made the first move.

“Fifty.”

“One fifty.”

“What!” Jonah’s near superhuman shout reverberated off the walls of the office. “You want fifty for each of them? Nonsense! Take sixty and leave.”

“One fifty,” Peter repeated.

“Listen here, you would be lucky to get thirty for them, Parker.”

“Then, I think I should take it up with the Globe.”

“You want to betray me, Parker?” Jonah said, seething. “Well, you are fired!”

“You can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t work here. Freelance, remember.”

Jameson gave a growl of understanding.

“Again, one fifty,” Peter said.

Jameson gave a growl of anger.

“Seems I am taking it with the Globe.”

Jameson sat down on his chair. He looked at Peter with a murderous gaze while he took out his checkbook from the drawer. His eyes gazing at the depths of Peter’s soul, Jonah filled out the cheque with uncanny precision. Finished with writing the cheque, Jonah tore out the paper and gave to Peter, not even blinking.

“Here,” Jonah said, gritting his teeth. “Now get lost!”

“Thanks, Mr. Jameson,” Peter said and skipped away. Moving out he gave a high five to Betty Brant.

Jonah pressed his secretary’s call button. “Ms. Brant, if you want to keep your job, I hope you do not get too much friendly with that Parker brat.”

“Yes, boss,” Ms. Brant’s voice came through the phone in a sing-song voice.

Jonah nearly broke the button, ending the call. He slumped in his chair and muttered, “Today’s generation…”

Robbie took a look at the pictures kept at the table; he smiled wide at what he saw.

“These are great shots,” Robbie said.

Jonah huffed. “They are good, alright. Still, one fifty is daylight robbery.”

Robbie ignored Jonah’s plight. He went on.

“Your son really showed quite some talent yesterday. I didn’t know he played ball.”

“He played it in his college. He is still great at it,” Jonah said, the pride in his voice was unmistakable. The photos showed the football match of yesterday. His son John was fantastic; the pictures served as proof.

While Jonah was still thinking, his phone started beeping. He pressed the button. “What is it, Ms. Brant?”

“An incoming fax,” the speaker called out. “From Peter Parker.”

“What does the brat want now?”

“He said to tell you that it is a bonus.” The line was then cut.

Jonah checked his fax machine while it printed out the photo. Jonah’s frown was gone as he gazed at it. Robbie was delighted.

“When did he click that?” Robbie asked, amused.

As Jonah held it out in his hands, he smiled warmly at the picture in his hand. It was after the match. He had his hand draped over his son, while his wife Martha hugged John who was smiling. Jonah had an ear-splitting grin.

“Parker, you sentimental fool,” Jonah said.

 

Hope that brightened up Jonah, Peter thought, smiling to himself. Now I have an aunt’s birthday to plan for.

 

_The End_


End file.
